Three Kisses
by Leikiz
Summary: Omake to AtrenGraves' 'Passengers.' Serial Killer!Taylor, with the trio as accomplices. Alternately: Three Murders, and three times Taylor kissed a girl. [TaylorxTrio][F/F]


Lao. No last name given. Stubborn. Had he thought I'd go after his family? Or was it just something he'd latched onto? A single, dogged point, that even as I hacked away everything that made him a person, he held onto.

He begs Emma for death at the end though.

The knife goes in smooth as silk, and I hold his head, watching his eyes as I thrust the final inch.

Emma lets out a little gasp.

He dies shaking.

The rush, the adrenaline euphoria of watching the light leave his eyes- good, so, so good. Not broken even as I turned to usher Emma out for the cleanup. Even that would be fun in its own way. Finishing the job with-

Emma is shaking. Deer in the headlights. One hand knotted in hair once cut jagged by the man behind me.

I bundle her out and slam the freezer door behind us.

She's a shivering, shaking lump in my arms. Another faint gasp as I press her close.

Quiet, meaningless sounds, my hand rubbing circles against her spine.

It was minutes before her hand unfolds, releasing red curls. It wavers, and then came to clutch at the front of my coat. She whispers something.

I bend to hear better.

"-thank you, thank you, thank you-"

And then she lifts her head, hair falling back, her breath warm against my chin-

Her lips against the corner of mine.

Press, and release, her lip balm strawberry. I'm just beginning to cogitate that she'd kissed me when she pulled back.

"My hero." Breathless now. She presses back in, and I am ready.

Full-contact. A flick of her tongue against my lip, and a steady, growing warmth that had nothing to do with Lao's mangled hands.

Speaking of hands- I'm not quite sure what to do with mine. Hugging, I know. But kissing? This is new territory. But she's small in my arms, always the shorter, and the soft shape of her form against mine was… new. New and good.

The dark hunger that drives me rumbles contentedly, and I find myself redoubling my hug.

Protective. Possessive.

She is… she is mine now.

XXX

My first time out with Madison is… not what I expect. She's neither Emma nor Sophia.

I hadn't given it much thought before-hand, really.

But where I'd expected her to watch- to be a bit of a voyeur, now that I put words to it, she was much more… _active._

Asking questions. What was I doing. Why was I doing it. If I did this, what would it do to- his name turned out to be Hugo Masters, though we didn't find that out until well after Madison had joined in.

Like a fish to water.

Giggling under her breath as she tapped a nail into the joint of his right index. Faltering, quickly speeding up knife-cuts across his arms, like a baby deer taking its first steps. Between each act, Madison pauses, her eyes wide, doll-like, her cheeks full of high-color, gauging his reaction.

She's savoring it.

When we're done, bleeding Hugo Masters out over the floor drain like wild game, she's still flushed, lips parted just a little.

Slowly, she reaches out. I let her, curious to see what mechanisms drive this new quantity.

Her nails are seafoam green, chipped from working the hammer. She presses her fingertips to my lips. A caress- no a brush, as she draws back, her fingers red. Some of the blood splatter wiped away.

Madison raises fingers to mouth and paints her lips red, seafoam nails dripping and crimson.

A shuddering, breathy little noise from her, eyes half-shut, teeth worrying bloody lip. The tremor that shakes her petite frame is… familiar. The trembling joy- the sheer rush- the _power_ _trip_. These things, I know.

For the first time since meeting her, I feel at ease.

XXX

We walk home together. It's been a while since I last had a sleepover. Madison is quiet most of the way; the silence is comfortable.

It's only as we're entering the final stretch that she pastes herself to my side, arm knitting into mine. A soft, contented sigh.

She's not quite Emma, but there's nothing wrong with that. The differences, the tuneless humming that she starts up as we walk, the slight boniness of her shoulder in my ribs. These things are present, and I accept them.

There is something different in the hunger inside me as I watch Madison's giddy, almost loopy smile. She is not Emma, nor Sophia, but she is broken all the same.

And the hunger in her is all the connection we need.

XXX

Sophia is the first and last. I've shared my darkness with her the longest, but she is bound, a collared tiger under the Protectorate.

Our first kill together was special. By far the most planning for one execution. A bit clumsy in retrospect, some kinks that'd be worked out in the future. She doesn't take part, waiting outside while I work. But she listens, and it couldn't have happened without her aid.

I know she's killed before. But I also know that none of those were deliberate. Missteps. Clumsier by far than my first kill. Errors in judgment- a crossbow wound that bled out. A man dangled and then dropped on accident. Others, never concealed for too long.

She was young and dumb, and I'd like to think I have better judgment, but Jamie Masters proves me wrong. Sophia at least has the advantage of being a cape. A get-out-of-jail card in the Protectorate.

In the weeks after, I continue my predations. She assists as she can, a name here, a tip there, but under watch there is only so much she can do. Emma and Madison are with me, participating a little more each time.

I begin to worry. Not the usual paranoia or suspicion. Concern that Sophia, who facilitated my first, our first, has begun to drift away.

And so I call her.

XXX

Sophia picks the target.

We meet, clandestine, lugging him into a building I scouted the week before. She phases through the door, unlocks it, and we're in.

It's only as I begin tying him to the chair that she glances around.

"Where's the other two?"

I look over my shoulder and give her a carefully practiced 'friend' smile. "It's just us tonight."

I even light some candles to set the mood.

XXX

His name is Kevin Reiners- though he won't divulge that until I work on his face with the same little propane torch I used to light the candles. Judging by the elaborate tattoos on his body, he's spent quite a bit of time with E88. I take my time melting them away, and when that grows tiring, try my hand at the cheese grater.

I don't know what he's done to earn her ire, but Sophia stays, silent, dark, watchful, a presence at the back of the room.

Round One ends with him screaming himself hoarse. I step back to take a breather and work the stiffness out of my hands.

Our eyes meet.

Her eyebrow rises.

I look pointedly at Kevin Reiners.

She stares between us for a long moment. And then she walks out of the room.

I find myself sighing, a little disappointed, and I'm having trouble working up much excitement for Round Two.

The door opens again.

Sophia pads in. She has a jug of the bleach I use for cleanup.

Oh _hoh._ The flare of hunger, of curious wonder is enough that I set down my knife entirely.

I move aside.

This is her show now. Her first real, true _kill._

I expect her to dump it down his throat. Not in the eyes or his wounds or any of that. My gut says she's too pragmatic to waste time when there could be a clean kill. But this is also the first time she's watched me work, and tonight has a different feel to it.

Kevin Reiners tries to wheeze something. Probably a slur, from his earlier content, though I've tortured him enough that we're nearly past the swearing stage.

Sophia stares at him, letting the bleach swing from her fingers, the liquid sloshing inside the bottle.

She uncaps it, lets the top fall.

He chokes on his own spittle, tries to say something again.

Sophia turns to shadow. The bottle of bleach is overturned and rammed into his abdomen.

A half-second after she lets it go, the bottle solidifies. My jaw drops. This is- parahumans are really amazing sometimes. It sticks halfway out of his belly, white plastic protruding from the bloody remains of his shirt. I can hear it glugging, discharging chemical into his insides.

Kevin Reiners starts screaming.

His struggles are enough to rip his wrists raw against the ropes and tip the chair over, but it's already far, far too late.

She's standing above him, watching him die with a satisfied, lip curled smirk. I think of her previous kills. The accidental ones. She wouldn't have made that face at those. I imagine she was probably afraid- though it's hard to think of Sophia ever being so. But this one- this is hers.

I find my chair. The one I use to watch them stir during those first, confusing minutes of semi-consciousness.

Sophia grumbles as I pull her back, but quiets almost at once as I fold my arms around her and rest her in my lap. She's taller than Madison or Emma, but even so, I rest my chin on her shoulder.

Her warmth is welcome- I always have to dress lightly during kills, and she has a pleasant odor up close- the leather of her body armor, and a faint sheen of sweat.

She turns her head to glance back at me.

I catch her mid-turn, my mouth against hers.

Sophia nearly jerks back, catches herself, and then she presses back. Rough. Hard. A battle. Her tongue on mine. She dominates the kiss. I find myself losing at once – there's a low moan that I have to admit is mine – but these acts of intimacy are so _strange_ , so odd compared to the simplicity of murder, but I don't regret initiating it. I wanted this to be equal. What I shared with Emma and Madison, I'd share with Sophia as well.

All three of them are mine, and I will not let them go.

We finally break apart, a mutual ceasefire, one final nip, my lower lip between her teeth, her hand on my hip, when Kevin Reiners gives a particularly interesting gurgle.

Sophia settles in my arms, muscles uncoiling.

We sit back to watch him die.

XX

XX

Ahahha... I think we just broke my writer's block. This was originally going to be pure smut, but I got caught up in the setup and didn't feel like going whole-hog or trying to enunciate the fucked-uppedness of this Taylor being sexually intimate, and we ended up here. Creep-central, baby!


End file.
